


Sick and Full of Pride (MARK FISCHBACH)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: mark fischbach - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Mark Fischbach - Freeform, Markiplier - Freeform, Other, reader - Freeform, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7461621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Word count: 455</p><p>Requested: Yes</p><p>This is really, really short but I feel like it encompasses the request</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick and Full of Pride (MARK FISCHBACH)

The sniffles came first. You saw them at dinner, when you were trying to get to sleep. Then he started coughing, smooth gentle throat clearings at first and then body shaking, blood curdling, loud coughs that made you think his lung was coming up.

The day Mark had to leap from his desk while he was recording for the trash can is the day you declared him sick. He fought against it of course saying: “No, I’m as healthy as a horse!” While his usually tan skin was pale and green, the bags under his eyes lilac and heavy.

“As healthy as a dead horse, maybe,” You laughed, pushing him back down in the bed, “Or a dying horse.” Mark scoffed and then coughed again, holding a tissue up to his mouth.

“I need to record,” He whined, throwing his head back. You tsked and placed a cup of water on his bedside table.

“I will record for you,” You said in your best ‘I’m dealing with a petulant child’ voice, “And you will sleep this sickness off.”

“I’m not sick!” He called after you, groaned when you waved him off. You, of course, weren’t going to record. You were going to make some soup and, if Mark wasn’t asleep, force him to eat it. Soup was good for the soul, or, at least, that’s what everybody said. The microwave beeped and you took the bowl out of the contraption, blowing on it to cool it off. Grabbing a spoon you made your way back to the bedroom, pushing the door open with your foot. Mark was snoring, with a stubborn look on your face.

“I know you’re not asleep. You’re not sly.” He smiled, sitting up in bed. He patted a spot next to you, which you occupied and spoon soup into his mouth. “Eat,” You commanded.

“I get all tingly when you take control.” He joked, “But you’ve already said no kissing while I’m not-sick.”

“You are sick.” You said, once more. Mark huffed and ate the rest of the soup, pulling you down to cuddle once he was done, “If you get me sick I’m breaking your computer,” You threatened weakly, knowing it was an empty threat. Mark laughed and snuggled closer, knowing that too. You cuddled until Mark’s stomach rumbled, causing him to gag. You untangled yourself just in time for him to dash to the bathroom and vomit the soup back up into the toilet.

“Okay,” He gasped as you took a cool washcloth to his forehead, “I’m sick.” You smirked and patted his back.

“I know, baby,” You cooed, “Come back to bed and let me take care off you.” Mark nodded, limping back to bed, holding his stomach.


End file.
